


A prisoner in their pond, a Blackwing story

by EdPettingEntropy



Category: Dirk - Fandom, Dirk Gently's Holistic Detective Agency (TV 2016)
Genre: Abduction, Angst, Angsty Dirk, CIA, Captivity, Childhood, Childhood Memories, Dirk will be mostly petrified throughout all of this, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Friedkin is an ass, Gen, Government Experimentation, Hurt/Comfort, Imprisonment, Post Season 1, Project Blackwing (Dirk Gently), Sorry Not Sorry, This is for the people who think there was not enough focus on Blackwing in either seasons, Trauma, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-26
Updated: 2018-07-18
Packaged: 2018-11-19 12:08:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 11,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11313072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EdPettingEntropy/pseuds/EdPettingEntropy
Summary: “Not now.”And then everything went black.Takes place at the end of season 1's major cliffhanger, Dirk's future looks as glamorous as a muddy pond as Project Blackwing finally captures him.





	1. Back in the pond

**Author's Note:**

> For a customised playlist selected for this story, follow this link:  
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg4vZnnfkzwiOxpxBdgh0KceRCZDAOKq-
> 
> Oh and no worries, there will be loads of chapters uploaded, that is a promise.

**Chapter 1**

Everything had been going swimmingly, all was well or all used to be well, but now it was bad again. There’s not much one can say when everything goes bad, especially after being free from such badness for 16 years, and not to mention finally finding the bliss of having friends, real friends, not the kind that pretend to be nice, but then ultimately use you for their own twisted motives. So then when all that used to be well is suddenly grasped out of reach, and stepped on, multiple times in a puddle of badness, one cannot say many other things than just a lousy:

 

“Not now.”

 

And then everything went black.

 

_\--An unknown amount of moments later--_

Dirk could feel his shoulders, and then his mind started spinning, even more than usual, which is an awful lot. _What a weird part of your body to first become aware of once consciousness invites itself back?_ It was particularly one specific shoulder that was very bothersome, he just couldn’t remember why that would be.

 

But before Dirk managed to think anymore of his mysterious health condition he felt a warm presence right in front of his face, breathing synchronized with him, how strange, whoever it was, they must definitely be leaning in very close, so much that his personal bubble-space-thingy certainly was being invaded. Farah had taught him about that thingy. However, Dirk still hadn’t made his mind up about what he felt of the concept though.

 

But let’s forget that for now and onto a more pressing matter, like trying to figure out what was going on. In an effort to answer that Dirk tried to squint his eyes open gradually, so he could get a look at what must be the intruder, whilst trying to use all his sneaky tendencies to his best efforts in an attempt to not alert anyone about the fact that he was indeed awake.

 

Nothing, it was all still black. Maybe it was the drugs, and they were affecting his vision, because thinking about it again, his mind seemed even more unorganized, chaotic and impulsive than in it’s usual state, blabbering on about shoulder-awareness and personal bubbles being trespassed.

 

“Subject is waking up, sir” someone reported

 

Dirk jumped in surprise as the voice broke the silence and then gasped out as the impact of chains connected to the floor dragged him unforgivingly back into his seat, much to the dismay of his shoulder. Two fingers had been pressing against the side of his neck, most likely feeling for a pulse, an act that had gone unnoticed by Dirk until the gruff voice had broken his pondering trance.

 

Well no point in trying to be cautious now that the element of surprise was completely lost.

 

The chains were still rattling from the sudden movement, forcing Dirk further out of his trance and back into whatever was his current surroundings. He could feel two _very …... hmm what was the word, oh yes_ : sturdy people sitting on either side of him in what felt like a moving car, no that would be awfully tight, it must a van. Probably one of those shady black ones, oh how little he had missed being in those, chained up, ready to be relocated for missions or more permanent situations.

 

It was a hoodie, oh thank god. He still had his vision, what a relief. That was why it was so dark. It was really rather obvious when one comes to think of it. There was a pressure around his neck, probably from the small rope that secured the black awfulness to his head, and he couldn’t see squat, and the breathing from earlier had been his own breath coming back to him and making all the air around his head go uncomfortably damp. Really a no-brainer in fact.

 

The two fingers went away. And he could hear someone shifting around him. And then small clinking noises as if someone were tapping on something made of glass.

 

 _Oh no._ Dirk tensed up, his muscle memory reacting far quicker than it took for his brain to add the pieces together. The company on his side had been more or less still, until now. Their grasp around his arms hurt as much as Dirk imagined the next thing that would happened to him would also do. He tried to fight against it, he could feel a set of hands on his neck lifting what probably was that awful hoodie away from parts of his neck.

 

He tried everything, he knew there was no point to his efforts, but once panic sets in there’s really not much to do.

 

A sharp stabbing pain shocked his struggling body out of it’s battle for a second, proceeding to a state of intense quivering as the needle made its way through his skin, and lastly a warm sensation emerged from that very spot on his neck. Spreading. Very fast.

 

The sharp tip of the needle was pulled out and Dirk immediately continued struggling against the restraints again as the shock of the being stabbed wore off, but the guards forced him back into his seat. His efforts were futile and slowly fading in strength as the world faded away from the poor detective.

 

_Yes, he really did not like these bad people._


	2. An idiot named Friedkin

**Chapter 2**

There it was again, the sound. The rattling sound. He was moving but not like before. Most definitely not like before. Strong hands carried him on either side, dragging him. He tried to walk for himself but ended up almost falling forwards as he apparently could only take small baby-like steps. _Curious_.

 

He was inside a building. But not like a normal house, it didn’t smell like one. This place smelt sterile, accompanied with some sort of metallic hint of something, Dirk thought. Two guards positioned on both his sides, dragged him across what must be have looked like an impressively long hallway. But which was probably made of boring material and undoubtedly boring colors too, he couldn’t see it but he just knew that there were no fun colors around in this place. The sound of heavy military boots hitting the ground in disciplined harmony, keys rattling in motion to every footstep, electronic buzzes from what must be door locks and also the piercingly and shrilling sound as chains attached around Dirk’s arms, and.. _is that stuff around my feet too?_ Dirk thought, interrupting his own internal observation as the realization hit him. Well that obviously would explain the difficulty with walking.

 

Just as he once again came to a brilliant conclusion, the walking came to a stop, or to be more precise the guards walking, since Dirk himself had not been doing much of that himself. A very door in a very close proximity buzzed open, and Dirk was placed in what felt like a very cold and particularly hard metal chair.

 

You would have thought they scoured the place for the hardest chair and then sat him in that exact one, because this chair felt horribly inhospitable. Even more so than Todd’s welcoming to his apartment the first time they met. Their first meeting, well not counting the time his future self was talking to himself, and Todd was standing in the background listening his blabbering to himself, _but who’s counting that. Right, no one._

 

Footsteps approached the defenceless detective and Dirk’s thoughts faded from the lovely memory of his first meeting with his dear friend, and back to his own presence in the horribly uncomfortable chair, chained up, with a hoodie. Someone was fiddling with what must be a knot around his neck, and the untying transpired for four painfully silent seconds. Yes, he counted. But finally the hood came off, and his sight returned. For not more than a second at most, only to disappear as the bright fluorescent light in the tiny room blinded him for the succeeding seconds, and he closed his eyes as the change in brightness hurt his eyes.

 

Once he opened them again Dirk looked around, taking in the scenery, or rather the lack of it. There really wasn’t much to what surrounded him. He was in a small room, box-like room was more accurate. It reminded him of one of those cliché interview rooms taken from those equally sleazy police-investigation drama show. The room had three metal chairs, two opposites to him and of course the one he was sitting,

 

And following the chairs were a matching boring table in the middle of the tiny room, separating the sets of chairs. _Ohhhh and yes!_ He was right of course he was right, there were no exciting colors only grey-ish walls with nothing much to it other than a two-way window and two doors adjacent to each other. And sitting opposite to him was a familiar face.

 

To say that it was familiar was correct, but maybe a slight exaggeration. Usually one knows the person whom owns a familiar face. But to say that this person was familiar would be no other than a lie. It was the incompetent back-up that Riggings had been accompanied with for the past weeks when surveilling Dirk.

 

 A knot appeared in his throat as soon as the thought struck him. If he was being dragged in by force, something he knew that Riggings had always seemed quite against, then what had happened that made someone overrule that judgment. And if his mentor’s judgment had been overridden then, what had happened to him now, and why wasn’t he the one to be sitting opposite to him right now? _Too many questions_. 

 

“So hello there…” the man opened with.

 

“Where’s Sc. I mean Riggi...?” Dirk cut in with an anxious tone

 

Dirk remembered this guy and he didn’t like him, although he had to admit that this person did look an awful lot sharper in this suit that he was wearing now, than what he did in the standard black clothing he had been in the last time Dirk saw this idiot. Although the suit lacked exciting color, obviously. A wise woman that had kinds just appeared from nowhere had taught him the importance of a cool jacket when he was a child, and to have a coo jacket it needed color, and this guy had none.

 

“My name is Friedkin” the man who called himself Friedkin replied cutting Dirk out short as he was multitasking between finishing his sentence and assessing the man’s color choices.

 

 

Dirks hands started trembling, resulting in a low rattling sound as the chains around him hit each other. He hated the uncontrollable reaction these people and this setting had on him, and for getting so emotional right now, but he couldn’t help it. It was just, despite what he might have said before and felt about his former handler and mentor, he did care allot, and the thought of what such unforgiving people like these might have done to him, made him emotional beyond what he would like to show right now.

 

“W-wwhere is Riggins” it didn’t even sound like a question, but he got the sentence out, without getting more emotional, so he considered it a success for now.

 

“He is currently irrelevant, and I would prefer it if you would stop cutting me off when I speak and not to ask questions without permission, understood?” Friedkin replied coldly, but yet with an indifferent voice.

 

Dirk had completely underestimated this guy. He was stunned and just sat there helplessly in his chains, on his chair, not knowing what to reply. This Friedkin person had seemed like such a special case, like any new and inexperienced git going through training, and with much to learn. Until this day Dirk would have never thought that he could make anything more of him than how far his muscles could get him, oh boy how wrong he could be.

 

“Project Icarus!” Friedkin shouted while simultaneously knocking his fit against the metal table between the two. Dirk jumped and yet again experienced the unpleasant feeling as the chains dragged him immediately down. Although fully aware and not drifting away with his thoughts far away from the small room, Dirk found himself rather voiceless.

 

Seconds passed and Dirk managed to stumble out a few carefully chosen words: “T-that’s not m-mmmy name … anymore.” He knew it was stupid but how could he not fight on this matter, a name is so important, it needs to have a special cling to it, just like a good jacket, a name needs to be fitting, like Dirk Gently.

 

Before he could pride anymore in his reply a fist quickly connected with his jaw, sending him with great force back into his chair. Almost rocketing the entire thing over, had it not been for the chains attached to the table. “Ouch!” Dirk aired as his shoulder once again was stressed, as the chain had tugged him unforgivingly hard back towards the metal table.

 

“Tell me your name one more time!” Friedkin yelled now standing up, hovering over Dirk’s small and defenceless frame as he sat there, chained up with both hands and feet.

 

Before Dirk could opt the chance to respond to the threatening question the door behind him buzzed and three sets of feet entered the room. However, Friedkin did not move an inch away from the helpless figure, only shifting his line of sight towards the newcomers standing behind Dirk’s back.


	3. An unwelcomed voice

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk meets a familiar, yet unpleasant figure as his captivity continues.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The words in italic are Dirk thoughts/ponderings or whatever you want to call them. 
> 
> And for those of you who likes to listen to music when reading, here's a playlist that I made for this fanfic that I have added a couple of more songs to since last time.
> 
> https://www.youtube.com/playlist?list=PLg4vZnnfkzwiOxpxBdgh0KceRCZDAOKq-
> 
>  
> 
> Enjoy! :)

**Chapter 3**

 

“Sir, the aircraft will be ready for take off in one hour, and we need the subject in order to preside with the required preparations” a disembodied voice announced.

 

Dirk’s eyes widened. _Ohhh airplanes are great, most definitely and absolutely excellent inventions._ But then his mind came to a halt, struggling on how to react further, because that meant that he was going far far away, and it would be even more difficult for his friends to solve the mystery of his disappearance and finally rescue him. Which he really hoped that they had already dutifully started on their first case as a detective agency, and that was to find their head detective and friend, that being himself. Dirk smiled, not really certain if from the thought of his friends or him as the head of a detective agency with his friends, _maybe both?_ Maybe he could even get them to call him captain sometimes, that would be cool.

 

Dirk snapped himself back to reality, his smile fading at the same rate as the nice thoughts had appeared, because for now he needed to focus. Serious things were going on, and it was all very mysterious in a sense. The figure that had spoken was still anonymous, and from what he could hear there were still two other people that had not spoken yet that were present in the tiny room too, well at least according to the footsteps. _Unless they were fond of toying with him by using fake feet to trick his brain, but that would be very silly, so that’s a no to fake feet,_ Dirk thought, quite content with his very reasonable conclusion to their hypothetical mind game.

 

Yet once again Dirk’s rabid running mind was snatched back into the tiny room as a voice spoke out.

 

“Doc, I know that, but can’t you see that I was right in the middle of some important re-education of the subject. He sure is in need of it.” Friedkin answered, clearly displeased with the timing of these people.

 

The doctor that had just spoken was about to speak for a second time, but another man, whom also was standing behind Dirk’s cut him off.

 

Responding in a very routinely yet authoritative tone. “Yes I am well aware, but these things take time and we need to start preparations this instance, if we are expected to keep to schedule”. This voice seemed older than the one that had first spoken. It belonged to an old man with a fairly strong Russian accent that also seemed strangely familiar. It was like this voice had some power over Dirk, from the way the man’s voice had sent such chills down Dirk’s spine before he could even realize that there was something familiar with the person that had just spoken out.

 

His voice contained zero emotions, in fact the person that had spoken seemed oddly calm or controlled judging by the way he spoke, nonetheless without involving any hint of emotion this man had still managed to adapt this icy cold character to it.

 

Dirk’s mind was truly out of words to describe the experience this voice had, he felt repressed memories and emotions from many years ago surface, in fact it was more like they were from a different life, most certainly a very another-type-of-life.

 

But the man did seem oddly familiar indeed, and although he lacked even an inch of the temper that Friedkin excelled, his emotionless voice still had way more power over Dirk than any other.

 

Friedkin took his hands up in a mockingly fashion, and then moved away, obviously disappointed and not happy at all. He continued taking a few steps annoyingly slowly backwards until his back hit the wall behind him and then he leant against the wall while saying in a discontent attitude “Yes alright, do whatever you need”.

 

Dirk unaware that he had been holding his breath since this newest mystery voice had spoken, inhaled sharply. Trying his best to not make his captors too attentive to how nervous he actually was becoming. An effort almost as fruitless as trying to win a wrestling fight with a crocodile, but that would be silly to even try. _Yes, very silly._

 

The feet that had been located behind Dirk moved around into his vision, and whatever air the defenseless form sitting in chains on the annoyingly hard chair had managed to get into his lungs faded the second Dirk’s eyes met the older doctor standing in front of him.

 

Yes, this man he knew. He had been one of the most involved chief-doctors assigned to him at his not-so-exquisite stay at Blackwing. This was the man that had been the most horrible, done the most uncomfortable experiments on him, and probably most of them too, _basically he had been, what was the word_ Dirk thought, _well very involved or captivated in the matter, the matter being Dirk._

 

He wasn’t necessarily evil, but still he was more than just evil, and he just didn’t have emotions either and cared more about the science bit than anything else, so he didn’t care for what Dirk felt, _ever _ Dirk thought resentfully. And he liked obedience, he had a very fine line for what was disrespectful. And he hated talking, which was a very bad combination since Dirk had always since the time he could remember loved to talk constantly to people, well at least to most people, and he really did enjoy chaos too. So yes, it was a undeniably a very bad combination.

 

Just as quick as the shivers up his spine had appeared when the older man had spoken, Dirk’s head dropped and his eyes looked down. All in effort of showing submission, an old habit he did now subconsciously.

 

How much he hated himself for giving in so quickly to these people after 16 years of freedom. Although the truth was it hadn’t been 16 years without Dr. Isaak Volko, as the man’s actions had haunted Dirk in his dreams close to every other night for nearly two decades now.

 

“Well hello Icarus, pleasure to see you back where you belong. Under control.” The old doctor declared, his tone so pleased that it could almost be mistaken for human emotion if you didn’t know the man enough. And Dirk also noticed that his accent was as obvious as the last time he could remember hearing the doctor speak, _strange_.

 

Dirk was trembling, again, but this time more on the inside than anything else. He was re-living every nightmare he had been having for the past 16 years. Events that he had promised himself on dark nights when he couldn’t sleep would never become more than night terrors, were now playing out right in front of him, with him in the middle of it. Chained up and sitting on a very hard chair, in an even more claustrophobic and not to mention boring looking room, helpless and unable to do anything. How could this have happened, where had the universe cursed him with this very distressing situation.

 

Dirk started to ponder this issue for a bit. For a second he had everything he had every dreamed of in his entire life; friends, an upcoming detective agency with them, not to mention freedom and now all that could ever be bad, was indeed going very bad. It was all very sad, and Dirk felt the range of feelings spreading throughout his body as the realization of his situation grew.

 

“For heavens sake answer me when I speak to you, I thought that you would at least manage to grow out of those pathetic day dreams of yours. But maturity was never your strong suit, among a long list of other things as well.” Volkov voiced out in Dirk’s direction when the terrified detective’s own voice had failed to fill the silence with a response to the nasty greeting.

 

Dirk lifted his head slowly, careful to not give Dr. Volkov any look that could ever be argued to be recognized as defiance.

 

Standing behind the older doctor was what appeared to be another doctor, a bit younger than Volkov, but fairly middle-aged, and the third person was a guard dressed in black and only black, looking very much to fit the profile of one of the men that might have carried him from the van and into this nightmarish pit of a room. Although that could also have been any other guard, these guards always looked the same, no matter how long he ever stared at them, _it was just a fact_. Friedkin could also be spotted in his vision, leaning against the wall and watching the whole scene play out. It was obvious based on his grin that he did nothing to try to hide the fact that he enjoyed seeing what power this old doctor had on Dirk _. Oh please don’t let Friedkin be one of those controlling-discipline freaks as well_ , although he feared that he already knew the answer to his fears, from the young idiot’s actions for the past minute.

 

“H-hhello or, or greetings s-sir, ehhm d-dddoctor V-v-volkv” Dirk managed to stumble out of himself, he felt pathetic. But tried his best to brush those feelings aside and forget about such things as pride, despite seeing the reactions his miserable reply had on Friedkin, as the young man grinned even more. Even the older Doctor showed a flicker of emotions that could only be compared to cold-hearted satisfaction, but he had no intention to respond anymore to Dirk.

 

Dirk remembered the awful tendency the doctor had in doing this, it was more like a routine than a tendency actually, in which Volkov either spoke next to nothing or left Dirk in terrible intimidating silences, usually after Dirk had responded to something, Those silences were guaranteed to always be filled with panic, as Dirk would never know for sure if Volkov had chosen not to respond because he was unsatisfied with Dirk for a particular reason, or just behaving "rightfully" towards "a project". These mind games were the reason why every second with Volkov was for Dirk, one filled with panic and a desperate need to do everything their way; accurate and with discipline.

 

And as the people in the room seemed satisfied with Dirk’s reply for now, Dirk’s panic started to reach a more tolerable level and he began to lower his head once again in order to avoid any more trouble, waiting for his next command. Oh how he hated himself for giving in so easily, and how much he hated this life, _it was most definitely not missed_ , Dirk thought to himself.


	4. Not this

**Chapter 4**

 

“Now guard, escort the project to the medical ward” Volkov ordered. His voice was far from polite, yet the poisonous tone he seemed to always reserve for speaking to Dirk had faded.

 

 _Typical always saving bad voice for me._ Dirk thought bitterly.

 

As a response to Volkov’s order the guard took what normally would be two enormous leaps for an average person, but for him only ended up being two normal ones, but very decisive elephant like steps.

 

And Dirk tried his best not to flinch as the guard approached in this very special elephant fashion. The large man knelt down without even looking Dirk in the eye, and unfastened the chain from a metal ring under the table and before even giving Dirk a chance to stand up by himself, the larger man stood up once again and yanked the chain with great force in an upwards motion. Which unwillingly sent Dirk’s arms straight up and leaving them in a painful position.

 

“Ouch!” Dirk exclaimed, he couldn’t control it, he was taken by surprise by the guard’s harsh motion and his shoulder really didn’t appreciate it either.

 

As quickly as they had gotten into the room the two doctors left it, leaving the guard to yank one more time on the chain, which sent Dirk in a standing position in a desperate effort to lessen the strain on his shoulder. Then the determined looking guard grabbed him by the bad shoulder and started walking out, which just further resulted in the poor Dirk’s futile efforts in trying his best in order to keep up, this time with the elephant like steps of the guard. A task that would be quite difficult in any situation, but one that involved foot shackles felt mere impossible.

 

Once out of the room, Dirk quickly felt more at ease, well considering the situation. It was all still a horrible situation to be in and it was all very bad, but being out of that small room with all those people standing around him, surrounding him, well simply felt suffocation. 

 

Especially being in such close proximity to one of the most horrible members of the team that had been running his life since the day he got there as a youngster. But he wasn’t a kid anymore and there was no need to fear Dr. Volkov as he had once done.

 

Yes, that was it. He was going to be okay, he thought to himself. Although deep down he knew that all that he had just told himself was a complete lie. _But fantasy is not necessarily truth either, more like a substitute to reality, a better version of a bad situation.  So fantasy and lies are therefore connected. Or maybe they are the same, and it just seems like the are connected because they are so alike? Wait, isn’t that the definition about connectedness? But what if-_

 

Dirk’s mind snapped back as his body hit the ground, hard, and face first. He felt like he had really tried his best to make every step as quick and large as he could, despite the conversation that had been going on with himself in his mind. Yet he still felt pathetic for not being able to walk on his own, although the odds were very much stacked against him, and with him being handcuffed Dirk didn’t really have much movement to get himself up once had had fallen face first, nor did he have the energy as getting a double dose of drugs had taken its toll, including the emotions of being back in the hands of such bad people. Yes, that was also very bad.

 

“Johnson, get over here. This incapable project can’t even walk for himself!” the guard that had been next to Dirk yelled.

 

Another pair of elephant like footsteps approached, _probably belonging to this Johnson character_. Dirk couldn’t do much more than to just lie there and be quite cross with the whole situation, _because if they hadn’t chained him up like he was a rabid dog then he could have walked just fine on his own, he’d been walking just fine for the past 16 years, and also doing allot of running, which when comes to think of it is like the advanced version of walking._

 

But no matter how much he told himself that they were the ones treating him ridiculously bad, he couldn’t help but still feel pathetic there he lied on his stomach, helpless to do anything. Just because he couldn’t keep up with someone walking, and no wandering thoughts or ideas that might randomly pop into his mind and distract him for a couple of seconds could cover that burning feeling of those emotions.

 

He could see that the two doctors had stopped as well, looking very unimpressed in his direction. Luckily before Dirk could think anymore of his pathetic situation, two hands pulled him up like he was nothing more than a light blow-up pool toy. At least that’s how he felt. The doctors continued walking and the two guards followed suit, pulling Dirk further down the hallway, which resulted in a horrible shrieking sound as his leather shoes were dragged against the hard floor. Nobody else seemed to be bothered by this noise, except Dirk whom made a great display of different faces as the sound pierced through his brain, which was now definitely confirmed was still quite wobbly after the drugs.

 

The two doctors walked in silence in the front, whilst the two guards followed suit, mimicking their silence, well except for their elephant sounding noise from their footsteps.

 

The whole place seemed quite small, and judging from how old everything seemed yet in such unused state there could not be much activity going on regularly here. Although it did carry this secret-governmental-facility feeling with it in a sense, _yes that is a thing_. Dirk had been in many buildings such as this throughout his dreadful upbringing, and judging from all those places, this place must be some sort of temporary holding facility, meaning that he would probably be transported away.

 

 _Oh yes_ , Volkov mentioned that already to him, well obviously not to him, because these people never informed him directly of relevant things, well regarding himself, it was really rather rude when one comes to think of it.

 

Dirk had been watching the tiles as the group had made their way down the hallway, but he noticed now that those tiles had stopped passing by and so had the piercing sound of his feet too, oh and the elephant shoes of the guards as well. He slowly looked up, and saw Volkov swiping a card next to a door as the odd mix of people were standing almost at the end of the hallway.

 

The two walked in and the piercing sound continued for a few seconds as Dirk was pulled into the room. His eyes widened, “not this” he blurted out. As soon as he said it he regretted it, they had heard him.


	5. Goodbye jacket

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for not updating in a while, but I have a bit more time on my hands now so tune in as I will release another chapter(6) later this week.
> 
> Enjoy and please leave a comment, with either praise, tips or wishes for what you want me to maybe write later on. :)

**Chapter 5**

But Dirk couldn’t help blurting out what he did, he just couldn’t help it. It felt like his heart had leaped into his throat somewhere as his eyes had glanced into the room. It was without a doubt a medical ward and a very equipped one as well, it even came with a bunch of medics, all standing in line, waiting, oh probably waiting for him. _Dang._ Dirk knew that there were few good things that came out of a medical examination, the only bright side to this must be that the room was obviously larger than the one he had previously been in. _So that’s a plus._

 

Thud! There it was, he knew that it was coming. As a response to his comment Dirk got what felt like a metal medical chart smacked in the back of his head, sending his head looking back down at the tiles like he had done the majority of the time since Dr. Volkov had walked into his life again.

 

“I will not tolerate rudeness, now remember you place in this world” Volkov responded, with an alarmingly serene voice. He didn’t seem out of his mind angry or anything like that, just like he was talking to a very particularly nasty 10-year-old. At least that’s how Dirk began to feel again, like a helpless and reckless child, in need of control.

 

“Sorry sir” Dirk dolefully replied back, he didn’t even think of saying sorry, it just blurted out before he could even think, it just happened. He was in the middle of pondering his treatment here, and his stupid traitor tongue had just spoken for him. Oh how he hated all of this. He could feel the older doctor looking at him as Dirk looked pitifully down towards the floor, in between the two large guards. He must see me even more as a child with these two giant goons on either side. Some painfully silent seconds passed by and then the nightmare doctor barked an order to one of the guards, something about his shackles was all that Dirk picked out in between the sound of his own rapid pulse as panic started to take over his thoughts.

 

Dirk continued standing in the middle of the room, looking down while one of the guards released his shackled feet, waist and hands. To say that getting those beastly chains of were a relief would be an understatement. After so many years of freedom, being tied up to that extent was not an easy ordeal, and the worst of the emotions that had emerged just seconds ago faintly started to fade a bit as Dirk started feeling slightly more in control again, although he knew that it was an illusion to think such thoughts in a situation like this. It was like a rollercoaster _, but not the good kind_ , Dirk thought.

 

Both guards walked away from Dirk, only to stop in front of the door that they all had just come through, blocking the exit and the chains made one last rattling sound as they were dropped on what might have been a hard counter top, or maybe just the floor. Dirk secretly hoped that it would be the last time he had to listen to that horrible rattling sound, but that was just as much as real to rely on as the calming feeling he had just experienced over the chains being removed.

 

The silence continued and Dirk tried his best in resisting the temptation to rub his sore wrists, but most of all he did everything in his power to try to ignore the row of eyes prying at his lonely frame.

 

“Strip!” Volkov ordered. Dirk’s pulse skyrocketed once again, like when your name gets yelled out in class when you haven’t been listening. He didn’t really know that feeling, but he had heard it’s a thing and he could definitely sympathize with that feeling on many occasions in his previous life, oh and his current one apparently.

 

Dirk looked up gradually, his pleading look meeting the stern face of the older man and then motioning with his eyes towards the rest of the crowd in the large room.  He heard the two guards taking each of their elephant steps towards him, and he knew that was his last warning, he needed to act quick.

 

“Sorry sorry sorry, yes okay okay” Dirk shouted, he knew it wasn’t wise. He knew he should be more submissive, but they just had no right at all to do this, so how could he pretend that it was alright. At least the guards had halted once he had spoken.

 

“Mind your tone, Icarus, and get to it then. Now” the doctor retorted back, staring straight at him with piercing eyes. The older doctor had always had a weird obsession with showing authority through eye contact, and Dirk had never really understood why, but hated to admit that it did kind of work.

 

Dropping his head, showing submission once again, by being the first to break the intense eye contact, he knew that the older man had gotten what he wanted. He started removing his jacket, and before he could think of where to put it, hands reached out and grabbed it forcefully out of his grip. Dirk whimpered in surprise, he didn’t even get the chance to say goodbye. He wanted so bad to look up, to get one last view of his beloved jacket. But he didn’t dare to look up. Oh how he loved his colorful jackets, all of them, but especially this one, the yellow one was the best, _undoubtedly_.

 

“So group, this is Project Icarus. As you can see he is a handful, and not much to look at.”

 

Dirk made an internal noise at the comment, _how rude_. However, he continued to do his current task at hand, removing his shoes and putting his socks inside of them, _very neatly actually_ , and just as his feet parted from the footwear, the pair of hands appeared and pulled them away from his line of sight.

 

 The older man continued speaking in the background “I will need your help today to go through an extensive medical examination, to check the essentials as this subject has been rogue, and without proper authority or supervision for the past 16 years.”

 

Oh now he really felt like a child, and how much he hated people talking about him over his head, like he wasn’t standing in the middle of the room. It made him feel like some sort of priced pig at a county fair. However, despite such unnecessarily mean acts, Dirk did his best to ignore them all and to only continue on his task by removing his trousers, and yet again the hands did not fail to take them away from him either.

 

“Therefore, the status of his current health condition is unknown, and before we depart from your facility today we would like to map out the largest holes for the reminder of the project’s transfer.”

 

Dirk had almost stopped listening to the jabbering. However, the doctor’s speech made him ponder on where he was indeed going when they departed from wherever he was now. But despite this he still kept going, and took of his t-shirt, taking one last longingly look at the black layout with white letters spelling “ _Mexican funeral_ ”. He thought of Todd, and how much he already missed his best friend in the whole world, his first and probably only best friend he would ever have. This life didn’t have much sympathy for such luxurious things as friendships. His mind was swept away from his sad thought as the hands were grasping at the t-shirt that Dirk had been staring at. Dirk unwillingly loosened his hold on the shirt, letting the hands yank the fabric one more time and finally getting it and removing it from his sight. Probably never to be seen again, Dirk thought somberly. He could feel himself getting emotional, standing there in nothing but his underwear with a beaten shoulder, in front of dozens of doctors and nurses ready to do whatever to him. Dirk tried his best in pushing those emotions far away and raised his head halfway in a discrete way, seeing how far into the speech the older man was. Volkov continued declaring:

 

“I have already distributed a folder to each of you with separate tasks to fulfill within the next 40 minutes, and I except a full report on your distinctive results within the same timeframe. First we will start of by drawing some blood for testing”

 

Dirk gulped uneasily, he really hated this situation. Standing there exposed barely dressed, and all those eyes prying. He had been through this many times during his last stay with the secretive governmental organization, it was not uncommon, in fact it was routine, however after 16 years of bathrobes, shower curtains, oh and of course slippers and being the ruler of his own personal life, then this was not an easy freedom to get used to loosing. Well at least nobody had asked him to remove his underpants. _Another plus._

 

“Icarus, come, sit down!” Volkov ordered, Dirk looked even further up and towards the far end of the room where the unpleasant voice had come from. He started walking towards a smaller portion of what had been a part of the large group of doctors and nurses, including Volkov himself.

 

The man motioned for him to sit down on the side of the bed, and Dirk did so, his pulse elevated like a kid watching a scary movie that he actually wasn’t allowed to watch. As soon as he sat down, one of the members of the medical staff came up to him and started wiping parts of his arm with alcohol, whilst another one tightened a rubber around his arm, and then quickly after a third person injected a large syringe into one of his veins. Dirk looked up as someone removed the rubber again and another started drawing blood seconds after.

 

Looking up Dirk saw the face of Volkov, he was skimming through some sort of document. Using this rare opportunity in which the doctor wasn’t obsessed with holding eye contact, Dirk studied his face. He looked an awful lot like he used to when he had left, he had been somewhere in the early 30’s maybe back then, so he must be around 50 by now. But other than a couple of more wrinkles, he really looked very much similar, a thought that horrified Dirk, he always hoped that if he would ever see this horrible person again he would be old and weak. But this man in front of him seemed just as determined as always, and most definitely just as cruel as ever.


	6. An appointment with the doctors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friedkin makes an appearance again and will be a massive ass to Dirk the next chapter as well. 
> 
> Sorry not sorry.

**Chapter 6**

The blood test was done, and 15 minutes later so was a range of other unnecessary tests too. Dirk was exhausted, he had been prodded, jabbed, pinched, drained quite literally and probably a range of other things. He had lost interest in whatever the staff would say regarding him. He couldn’t even manage the effort to be annoyed when they continued talking about him and his health as if he was not right in front of them. He was just tired and his shoulder was hurting even more than it had previously.

 

Dirk had been standing on a medical scale, his eyes tired and looking blankly into the wall in front of him. Trying his best to keep his balance as he became more drained and unsteady as each examination passed by. Volkov’s voice had called out his name, what no. That’s not his real name, at least not anymore, _right?_

 

Dirk wasn’t really sure anymore what Volkov had shouted, it felt like his head was falling further into some thick cloud. Noises hurt his ears, but he couldn’t really hear much either, or maybe he just couldn’t focus on hearing, but _who cares what’s the difference anyways._ When Volkov called him a second time, Dirk started to wobble his way mindlessly off the scale and towards the voice. But he couldn’t even reach the source of the horrible man’s voice before the cloudy feeling that had grown with his fatigue took over and everything went black, and the last thing he could hear was half a dozens of footsteps approaching him all at once as he was falling to the ground.

 

_\- moments later -_

 

He could feel hands, someone carried him onto what felt like the softest bed in existence. At least compared to that dreaded chair from earlier. _Wait what chair?_ Dirk started wake up more, and as he did he could feel hands working on him, he started to hear a steady beep, something or someone prodding his arm, a clamp on his finger, none of it in the right order. Oh boy, was he confused.

 

The poor detective started opening his eyes and when he eventually did he could see a multitude of faces and arms all wrapped over and next to his body, all jumbled up. “He’s probably just exhausted, however don’t delay the shoulder anymore and attend to it now” Volkov barked. If Dirk had not known the man better he would almost mistake this for him concern, although he knew that it was only the older man’s obsession with having everything under his control, even if that meant controlling how much the wounds on Dirk body should hurt or not.

 

Someone cut away the gauze pads that had been protecting his stiches, and Dirk didn’t even have to look to know that it had bled through. He could feel parts of the bandage tugging on his stitched wound as some of the blood had managed to dry. Dirk pressed the back of his head against the pillow and tried to focus on other things, happy things while the jumble of medics worked on him.

 

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- 

_\- Volkov -_

Dr. Volkov looked at his most valuable project, as Dirk leaned his head back against the pillow, giving in and letting the doctors work on him for now. It was obvious that the subject was in distress, Volkov thought, but especially by his breathing and the flashes of worried facial expressions he expressed while being surrounded by so many people focusing only on him. He saw Dirk’s eyes slowly closing and Volkov knew that this was the younger man’s desperate attempt to focus on his breathing, in order to not get whatever panic was inside him take grow further and take over. Although Volkov knew that as the realization of his capture grew on the subject that effort would soon become much harder

 

Oh how much fun he had waiting for him. Volkov had thought almost two decades about what to do once this day would come. The day the most remarkable project returned and although he knew that for Icarus to return back to his rightful life and learn his rightful place back in the world order after corrupting it for so long with his fantasies and childish actions would be hard. Volkov already knew that he would eventually win that battle.

 

\--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Dirk must have drifted off, because when he opened his eyes the dozens of doctors in the room, where close to halved and only three of them were standing over him.

 

“Subject is awake” reported one of the doctors, whilst another noted something down on a chart.

 

Dirk’s eyes traveled around the room only to meet Friedkin sitting by a chair close to the hospital bed that he was lying in.

 

“Hi there buddy” Friedkin greeted in a mocking tone


	7. The protest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Friedkin makes another appearance but that does not bode well for poor Dirk.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so sorry for taking a whole friggin year to update this story.
> 
> But good news is that there will be at least a couple of more chapters the next couple of days/weeks. So if you are still sticking around to read these next chapters, thanks for all the patience, great comments and enjoy!

Dirk ignored this annoyingly stupid Friedkin-person. It was one thing to be scared senseless and humiliated by Volkov, but this younger man was not worth tiptoeing around with such respect and discipline as Volkov’s presence always awakened in Dirk. So Dirk just sent him an unimpressed facial expression and then turned his head the other way.

“You know, this way, just like I'm sitting right now is how we found your little screwed up version of a father figure.” Friedkin said leaning back against the chair, whilst looking over one of his shirt buttons.

It felt like ice traveled through Dirk’s body at the mention of Riggins and it all accumulated in his stomach until it felt like everything turned to hot lava, and he could already picture the scenario in his head. A beautifully painted picture in which he turned around in the bed he was lying in and caught Friedkin by surprise, making his stupid face make an equally stupid grimace as his fist planted itself right into his stupid face.

But Dirk didn’t plant his fist into Friedkin’s stupid face. Not yet at least.

“He was visiting you in the hospital, trying to talk to you. It was really rather pathetic when you think about it, especially considering your last words to him, hmm.. what were they again? Something about going back and hiding because that’s all that he was ever good at, that’s how you said it, right Svlad? Man, you should have seen how hurt he was for the rest of that night”. Had it not been for the fact that his back was turned to Friedkin, Dirk would have seen that stupid grin on his face as he said those mocking words to Dirk. But there was no need to look the man in the face to realise he was grinning in the most cunning of ways. A grin in that just begged to be punched, preferably as hard as humanly possible.

Dirk had never thought of himself as a violent person, he had more often than he would have liked been surrounded by violence and even death as well. However even though such situations had grown quite frequent over the years, he’d never stopped hating the way such situations made him feel. He didn’t like those feelings, he didn't like fear or seeing anger in anyone, ever, they never felt good and they never did good either. Which is why he wasn’t particularly proud by his next action, as lunged himself forward while he yelled out some nasty word.

However, as many things in the care of these horrible people, his plan; to deliver justice and end the ugly grin that was very likely forming on the man’s stupid face, backfired. His good arm was handcuffed to the bed frame, something that was unnoticed by Dirk himself until he was roughly thrown back into the pillow.

Stupid traitor arm.

And Dirk was certainly not proud of his reaction once his plan to deliver some justice to that ugly grin had failed. But he didn’t care. He was just so scared and angry at these people, at people like Friedkin that believed that there was nothing wrong with what they were doing to Dirk and he didn't care about the pain in his shoulder, about how it throbbed in protest, about the fact that he might tear open his stitches again and start bleeding out right there on the bed. He just wanted to show his protest, to show Friedkin, to show everyone that he was not mean to be locked up, that it wasn't right or just, that it was simply wrong. 

So Dirk did all he could in his power to lunge himself forward, to attack, to protest this life, his life taken away. The pain from the injured shoulder couldn't even be felt through all the emotions, and chaos that entrapped Dirk’s mind.

People yelling and fast approaching footsteps came rushing to him and shortly after accompanied by a multitudes of hands pushing his puny frame away from the man he so badly wanted to attack, and shoving him hard down into the soft mattress, surrounding his body. Despite this Dirk continued his hopeless fight, his struggles only increasing in strength undeterred by the fact that even more hands joined in on the efforts against Dirk’s violent protest, bulldozing the helpless figure further down into the bed.

Friedkin was also there now, among the sea of hands holding him down and the many faces hovering above his fighting body. His face still displaying the ugly grin his plan had failed to change. Friedkin’s hands were without doubt the most merciless, as he held him down at his chest, with such force that Dirk’s lungs could not even fill up with air anymore.

However this did not stop Dirk efforts, on the contrary it just gave him the increased adrenaline to manage to pry his head away from a pair of hands that were holding it in place, and then he launched his head, towards the stupid bastard and spat. 

He knew it was pathetic, but also so satisfying. He felt like an animal, and he knew that he would be ashamed of himself later on, he already was, however right now he simply didn’t care enough about shame. Hands started holding down his head again, but this time with much more force then previously, someone held his jaws together too. The door bolted open and a pair of familiar determined steps approached Dirk for the second time that day.

“Icarus, stop this rabid behavior right away.” Volkov commanded, his tone filled with dark undertones. There was no need for a threat, only the sound of his stern voice was more than enough.

Dirk stopped his struggles the instant the voice had called out to him, the chilling echoes of the man’s voice still remaining, thrown between the walls of the room. His body went limp well before the echoes had died.

The medical team still held his body down, resulting in Dirk being pushed painfully halfway through the mattress. Another pair of hands still holding over his mouth and keeping his jaw shut, forced Dirk to breath heavily out of his nose. Exhausted from his struggles for the past minute, his lungs now heaved for air after the immense struggles from the past minute. 

Once Volkov’s disapproving eyes met Dirk’s redshot ones, filled with fear, that glimmer turned into one of shame, as his past actions now made him feel like a rabid animal in need for a muzzle to be put on. Shame filled over him, an sensation even more present than the increasing throbbing of his injury.

“You behave like an animal, boy. This is the reason why you need to be here, under supervision, where you can be protected from yourself and for others safety. Can’t you see that you only bring harm and misfortunate to people if you are not under our control”. 

Dirk wanted to shrink away and cry at those words. He felt so helpless, he wanted to find the words he needed to defend himself, and he had tried to convince himself for so long that he could be good, and that having friends didn’t put them at risk, but the doctor was right. They had always been right. He was selfish for every getting friends, and putting them in harm's way. 

Volkov seemed pleased about the change in demeanor, as he now ordered the people around to “prep the subject ready for the showers, and make sure its througly cold as a consequence to such animalistic behaviour.” Dirk’s mind felt another wave of shame wash over him as his mind had processed the words the doctor had barked to the people around him. Because in this instance, despite him trying to protest his treatment, this unjust, he had only succeeded in proving to himself and everyone who put him through this that he deserved nothing better than this treatment.

Dirk closed his eyes for a second in order try to disappear from the situation, the reality of it all, he could feel hands moving away from him, and the rattling of the one handcuff around his good arm going away. Other hands grabbed him, big ones and lifted him off the bed into an upright position, except he wasn’t standing on his feet, in fact his feet didn’t even touch the ground. He also felt a breeze, oh those bastards Dirk thought the second he realized. Someone had also stripped him of his underpants while he had been in the bed at some point, and he was wearing only a simple medical gown now, he opened his eyes only to see the half the medical team standing in a line again and as well as the 2 large guards on either side of him. And there were people present, allot of them.

_Fantastic._


	8. Hello overalls

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dirk has to put on the uniform, and is not happy about it.

The guards continued lifting the small detective across the medical ward, and Dirk had no other choice than to let himself be lead onwards whilst his body dangled as the group made their way to a pair of push doors indicating that they were headed towards a bathroom of some sorts. That made Dirk gulp hard and wish that he was wrong : Like maybe there was something else, a nice surprise, like a kitten inside. You could never trust doors to tell you where they were taking you.

But as the burly guards pushed the doors open with their shoulders, the smell of chlorine hit Dirk’s nostrils and reality dragged him away from his imaginary fluffy surprise and brought him in a room that was in complete darkness. Leaving only the damp air and smell of chlorine perceivable to the senses. Until someone behind him turned on a light switch, revealing a complete floor to wall tile room as the fluorescent lights lit up the room in sharp colors. 

Dirk’s shoulders dropped in dismay. Reality was rather dull sometimes, well at least now. His eyes traveled further into the room, and he became painfully aware of rows of shower stalls in front of him, without any doors for privacy Dirk noted. 

The guards continued carrying Dirk, and he considered for a moment fighting them, at least giving them a bit of a struggle as he knew how badly he wanted to avoid what was about to happen, but he didn’t have time to make up his mind as the guards suddenly came to a stop inside one of the stalls. Dirk expected to be put down, but instead both guards took the arms of his hospital gown, ripped it off on either side and then forced his arms to spread out on both sides. 

Quite impressively synchronized actually. Maybe they have practiced for this, that would be strange, or maybe it's not that strange. Maybe it's completely normal and i'm the one whose strange for doubting the seriousness of it.

As slick metal cuffs met Dirk’s wrists on either side and was closed with multitudes of clicks echoing throughout the room, Dirk once again snapped out of his thoughts and reality hit hard for probably the 10th time that day.   
Dirk’s body had lost the two sturdy pillars that had kept him up, as they’d simply let him go and left his side, forcing his handcuffed arms to carry the sudden weight of his body as his feet apparently failed to meet their most basic requirement. 

Stupid traitor feet

However after some effort he managed to plant them quite wobbly but good-enough-for-now-sturdy onto the white tile floor. Standing there he lifted his eyes only to be met by matching white tiles on the wall in front of him. That's when the powerlessness of this scenario dawned upon Dirk, as he stood there exposed. His feet almost having to tiptoe on the cold damp floor because of how high up his wrists were restrained. Forcing him to have his back turned to whoever was in the room right now, watching him while goosebumps formed. His eyes trained on his injured shoulder, it had been wrapped in some white gauze and had some fresh red spots showing, oh and they had wrapped plastic around it all. Dirk already knew what was coming, but this gave no doubt to what their intentions were.

“This could have been a pleasant experience, but instead this will be your punishment for acting out like you just did, boy” Volkov’s voice creeped out of nowhere behind him. Dirk could hear the sound of his own breath, a quiet murmur of people talking behind him and then he heard a shrieking noise, a sound of a hardened tap being turned for the first time in a long time.

The first drops that hit him weren’t that bad, only surprising really. But then as the water started to increase in strength the really cold water came in contact with his body. And it was cold. Dirk tried to wriggle away from the raw and unforgiving water, but having his hands cuffed on either side, he was forced to stay put. He gasped and tried to find a spot where he could keep his head away from the rushing water, but it was hopeless. 

After what felt like an eternity, the water stopped. Dirk barely noticed though, his head was slumped downwards and his eyes closed, doing his best to imagine himself in a better place, anywhere else really. Two guards approached and took away his handcuffs, his arms immediately dropped down like they were made of jello and had weight attached to them. 

 

Dirk did no effort to move at all, he simply stood where he had last been put down by the two burly guards, frozen. Frozen like how the water had felt, some of it still trickling down his body.

“Turn around!” a voice yelled out into the darkness. 

That’s not Volkov

Dirk opened his eyes, tried his best to lift his neck and then turned as he had been ordered, however in a very slow and clumsy manner. The only sound in the room was water dripping and the sound of the plastic covering his shoulder crackling from his inept movements.

“Put it on, and be quick!” the voice shouted out, louder this time. 

Who is that person? Volkov, as far as Dirk could remember had never raised his voice to him ever, not out of kindness of course, but because he never needed to. The older doctors voice carried dark undertones that contained unsaid threats of violence if not listened to, and it was one of the things that made the old man so unbelievably intimidating to Dirk. That no matter the situation, Volkov never let emotions take over, he was always controlled. Which was basically the opposite of what Dirk viewed himself as. 

“NOW!” the mysterious person roared out.

That made Dirk snap out of yet another stroll in his own mind, and his eyes now frantically traveled around the room, that's when his eyes locked on it, and his breathing grew even more ragged as his distress skyrocketed.

Looking down on the ground, one small step in front of him were a pile of grey and slightly orange looking fabric. He recognized the colors, he could describe all the seams of this specific piece of clothing. After all who wouldn’t have, after a spending most of your life wearing only this.

With shaky hands and a ragged breath to match, and despite all of these feelings that seeing the uniform awakened, Dirk swallowed hard and took his first step forward. Reaching out with a nervous look on his face he quickly skimmed through the pile and to his relief found a pair of underpants and then quickly took them in an effort to restore some privacy. Then continuing his mission for privacy by taking the t-shirt in the pile as well, it had some writing on it he noticed as he put it on. Some numbers, a very familiar symbol and under those it said “P. Icarus”, but the font was horribly boring Dirk noted to himself. He didn’t really mind the t-shirt despite this though, the need to be dressed and get some warmth was bigger, and privacy, that was important too. He hurriedly finished putting on the t-shirt and continued with what looked like some plain white tennis socks. But as the grey overalls were left on the floor Dirk hesitated, despite being cold and wanting to regain some more privacy, he couldn’t get himself to continue on. The pile of fabric that was there on the cold and damp floor, looking more miserable than what even Dirk felt inside after the recent events, was the greatest symbol to his world in captivity, to this ongoing unjust. 

Dirk froze.

“Put ALL the clothes on” the person schooled, like he was talking to a child.

Dirk turned his gaze from the miserable grey overalls to the source of the voice. Having regained most of his sight from the traumatizing event that had been his first shower back in captivity, he could finally see this mystery person. He was probably about 20 or 30 years younger than Volkov, with dark hair disguised in what seemed like a very ordinary and boring haircut, oh and large bushy eyebrows. And that was about the only thing that seemed special about this man, Dirk thought to himself.

“I said put them on!” the eyebrow man ordered, although this time he shouted.

However Dirk didn’t move an inch. It wasn’t out of stubborness; he just couldn’t bring himself to move. Lost somewhere between his thoughts about the man’s eyebrows and the miserable overalls.

In that instant Volkov stormed in, the push door making a loud bang as it hit the doors behind him, and 4 more guards followed suit. This really weren’t fair numbers at all, Dirk thought.   
Counting the men that were already here with eyebrows, yes he named the man eyebrows, that’s what happens when you don’t introduce yourself, you get assigned a name. Anyways, yes guards counting, he did that and counting the two that were already here with eyebrows and the ones that stormed in with Volkov he was up against 6 . Not too promising.

Although Dirk’s mind knew full well where his actions were about to lead him, or a lack of action to be more precise, or is it called inaction? Yes, that’s a word, he was pretty sure of that. However despite knowing this, he still couldn’t get his body to move. 

Stupid traitor body.

“This is your last warning, Icarus. Put on your clothes” Volkov said with a poisonous tone only reserved for occasions like this one. For when he had acted out and then been stupid enough to do the same such short time afterwards. He knew the old man hated that more than anything else. But Dirk also really couldn't stand the thought of having that Blackwing issued clothing on again, it made him feel like he belonged to them, like he was their possession and not a living person with many complex feelings and thoughts. 

So he tried to explain himself, he wanted to say all the reasons why there was no need for this, but all he managed was a stuttering whisper saying: “I-I-Its not my uniform, and tha-t-ts not my na-na-na-name” he sounded pathetic and he knew it. His eyes had started watering on the first syllable, because it was all so hopeless and he knew what was coming.

“Grab him and finish this” Volkov ordered to the men besides him, and with the snap of his fingers five very threatening guards were walking even more threateningly towards the frozen detective. Dirk stood his place, with the shower block behind him he was the definition of cornered, if you ever were to look that up in the dictionary that would be the picture. His body was in a frozen state, and had been since he got a good glimpse of those miserable overalls. 

However as the first guard grabbed his shoulder, something in Dirk snapped and his frozen trance reversed as he latched out on the guard closest to him.

He kicked and he tried to run, and when all his arms and legs were restrained he twisted his body with all his power, whilst shouting, snapping his jaw and trying to use his head as a boxing glove. He could hear the old man barking something at him in the background for a moment, but Dirk didn’t care anymore. He didn’t want to have the overalls on, he didn’t want to be here, he just wanted to be with his friends again. So he kicked some more.

Another guard had picked up the overalls and was working with the last guard that had been standing behind eyebrows with getting the grey clothing on the screaming detective.

Dirk fought all he could, yet the guards managed to wiggle the clothing on both of his kicking legs, he couldn’t do much than to continue shifting his body unexpectedly in an effort to try to get free. But it was hopeless. Soon they had the overalls on his arms as well, leaving only the zipper. As they drew the zip up Dirk truly knew that he had lost this fight. Dirk expected to be let go now that the battle was lost however despite the fact that the zip was completely drawn up, the hands still held him down, Dirk tried to look around but as his head was held in place, there wasn’t much room for movement so he had no clue what was going on except the sounds around him. He heard fabric being torn for a second and then a cable tie being fastened.

Then the guards left the exhausted Dirk on the ground. He just laid there on his back for a second, while his hands tried to find the zip. He did, but there was something strange, he couldn’t pull it down. He felt some more, they had put a cable tie around it and then made a hole in the fabric and tied the cable tie through it. 

“Bastards” Dirk whispered quietly to himself. He wanted to yell it and then latch himself onto them again, and he knew he shouldn’t even whisper it, but it just had to be said.

“Stand up” Volkov’s voice called out

Dirk shakingly and awkwardly did so, sore, out of breath and still in shock after the incident that had just taken place.

“Stop touching the collar, hands down Icarus” Volkov ordered again. 

Dirk’s hands dropped to his sides lamely. And he stood there once again. This time with the stupid grey overalls on and they itched.

“There will be more consequences for this, and more to come if this rabid behavior continues, understood” Volkov declared

Dirk didn’t really know what to do. One part wanted to roll his eyes and point out the unfairness of the situation, but another part was just really afraid of Volkov, all these people and these upcoming consequences. So he did what he had done most of the time since the old man had walked into his life again.

He lowered his head and answered with a weak voice “Sorry for my behavior and I understand...” Dirk couldn’t possibly hate himself more than he did right now for being so weak. “.. Sir” he finished. Oh yes it was very possible.

“That will do for now.” And then Volkov snapped his fingers and the guard lead the detective out of the shower blocks, dressed in his miserable grey uniform.


End file.
